


Fine

by Maura_Moo



Series: Newsies tumblr fic dump [4]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Adopted Cora Higgins, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguments, Bisexual Jack Kelly, Brandy - Freeform, Dancer Cora Higgins, Dancer Racetrack Higgins, Drinking to Cope, Fluff and Angst, Higgins siblings, Jack Kelly Needs a Hug, Modern Era, Other, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Race has a little sister, Sad Jack Kelly, Self-Harm, Smoking, Suicide Attempt, Underage Drinking, adopted sibling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29524968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maura_Moo/pseuds/Maura_Moo
Summary: “ ‘M jus tired” He’d tell them, the classic smile spreading across his cracked lips. And it wasn’t a lie.
Relationships: Jack Kelly & Original Character(s), Jack Kelly & Original Female Character(s), Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly
Series: Newsies tumblr fic dump [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168985





	Fine

Jack Kelly was fine. 

He always has been fine. He told his friends this, yelling at their worried eyes and nervous voices trembling with concern. His rants were always punctuated with a slam of his locker and his footsteps falling away into the crowd of school children. He had begged and complained to school counsellors, fists balled tight and white-knuckled as he longed for them to leave his life to him. He told himself that, in the darkness of his bedroom, his painting knife poised like a speer, dancing in the moonlit tears. 

Nobody stared at him with concern when he’d shove away half-empty plates of lunch. Nobody would look him in the eye while he drowns, life falling quickly from the mud-brown of his eyes. 

“ ‘M jus tired” He’d tell them, the classic smile spreading across his cracked lips. And it wasn’t a lie. 

He was tired. 

So. Damn. Tired. 

Tired of fighting against these ghosts that surrounded him. Tired of keeping his legs kicking in the murky sea of depression. Tired of peoples sad eyes and meek questions and sick and tired of that one part of his mind that tells him to scream until the air seeps away from his mind. 

But Jack Kelly was fine. 

Regardless of the scars on his arm and the blood-stained razors that he scrubs in the shower. 

“Jackie?” Her voice breaks his looping thoughts like a needle piercing skin. He turns to look over his shoulder and a smile, normally so hard to produce, creeps effortlessly across his face. He blinks at Cora and a twinge of almost guilty, bitter envy stains the corners of his eyes; he envies her unburdened smiles and hopeful eyes glistening with the dreams of her future. They’re so untouched and innocent, taking note of the goodness in the world. 

“Yeah?” Jack keeps his best friend soft in his eyes; he burns the feeling of her arms around his middle, hugging him close into the deepest section of his brain. He remembers her laughter.

He remembers his sister happy. Happy and joyful in their messy kitchen, dressed proudly in her dance clothes, simple black leggings and that white shirt that seems to fight to stay together. He commits the sound of the cheep pasta boiling and the hissing of their stove. 

He remembers how she talks with her hands, them flailing soundlessly, dropping a thousand words. He tries to smile as he forces bland, stale noodles down his throat. 

“I’se can stay if ya not feeling great.” 

He shakes his head. “No, no. ‘M fine, go have ya fun. Promise.” 

“Jack-” 

“Cora please!” 

He doesn’t mean to yell. 

He didn’t want to raise his voice. It just happened. He didn’t mean for his voice to sound so cold, no heartless. But her concern pushes guilt through his bloodstream. Jack watches her leave, opening and closing the door without another word. 

He listens to the way her footsteps fall away down the hall; quick as if she’s running away and it’s only when the hallway falls silent does Jack really register that he’s alone. 

That he’s alone and that will be her last memory of him. 

The last memory his baby sister has of him, is him standing in the kitchen, fists raised, eyes cold and voice dripping with anger. Disjointed tears burn as they slide down his cheeks. 

The familiar flavour of guilt tingles on his tongue and it’s not long before Jack craves something stronger. 

Alcohol. 

Just one glass, he promises himself, pouring brandy into a glass. His reflection becomes his drinking partner. 

Just one drink to calm the shaking of his hands and the screaming of his brain. 

Just one drink to give himself the courage to shut his brain up. Permanently. 

Blood pounds loudly in ears, chest heaves and sweat stains concentrated brows. 

Thoughts tumble like shooting stars and feet stumble lost and misplace against the wood floor. 

“Miss Higgins, if you’re going to keep bumping into the other classmates, I will ask you to leave.” 

“Yes madam.” 

Race watches his sister from the corner of his eye, shoes scratching against the floor when he sees her slouch against the wall. “What’s wrong Cor’?” when she shrugs, he nods and allows her to slump against his shoulder, green eyes focusing on the glinting caps of her shoes. 

They stay like that until class ends. The sun has just started to set and Cora stands, watching the sunset until Jack’s car rolls slowly into the parking lot. 

Race asks her if she needs a ride and part of her yells to take it. But she simply shakes her head, waiting for Jack to appear. It’s only when the sun falls below the Manhattan skyline does worry start to flow slowly through her body. 

She calls his cellphone. It rings until his voicemail rings out, bright and cheerful. The home phone just rings until the line falls dead. 

The man in the moon is her witness as she dodges and ducks through the messy streets. People yell at her, older men yell and couples gasp at the teenage runaways disrespect. But it all falls on deaf ears, adrenaline forces her tired legs to pound the pavement, noting every crack and stone under her feet. 

Cora’s not sure when it rained, but she stumbles into puddles and the dirty water soaks through the thin fabric of her converses. It’s cold and it makes her feet ache. But it doesn’t stop her burning feet from pounding and skidding as she curls the corner. 

Somethings happened to Jack.

Something bad. 

She takes the stairs three at a time, stumbling over her own fatigued muscles until their apartment stands, the door unlocked, like an expectant mother. The door swings open when her hand reaches forward effortlessly. 

A wave of darkness and staling alcohol washes over her in broken, heavy waves. It settles against her bare arms like a second skin, if she focuses too hard on it, she can feel the droplets of rum running down her skin like dripping blood. Cora feels her stomach tangle like an invisible hand is running stitches through her. 

Wet, trembling footsteps squelch through the apartment, leaving behind a shaking trail soaking into the gaps between the floorboards. The front door slams closed and using the wall as her guide. Cora leads herself into the living room. 

Whiskey and rum bring tears to her eyes and steals the air from her tired lungs. 

They seem to stick against her skin, like paper clouds against fingerpainted skies. 

“Jack-?” 

A figure lays motionless on the couch; a dead body outlined with empty bottles. Redness stains the darkness and Cora jolts forwards, her muscles finally giving out. The carpet burns her legs but she forces the feeling away. 

She stares down at his face, red eyes stained with cold tears. There’s no note, just a collection of bottles and a broken glass his final note, the last cadence of the song that is Jack Kelly. 

“Ya ain’t leavin me this easily.” Shaking hands shoot forwards and normally gentle fingers grip at his wrist with a wave of unseen anger. She can feel his pulse, forcing blood from the slices out like currents in a pool. Tight fingers and quick thinking pulls the strings into another chord and soon an orchestra breathes life into the silence. 

She’s not sure who called the ambulance. She doesn’t remember the ride to the hospital. Just the feeling of his blood drying and caving rivets into her fingers. It’s then a rush of questions. Questions that she didn’t have the answer for. Questions that Cora couldn’t answer because she was Cora Higgins, not Jack kelly. It feels like hours until she can wash the blood off her hands and even longer until his eyes open. 

Pain in his arms and a killer hangover is his warning signs that he’s still alive and jack just rolls his eyes. He cant even succeed in the simple task of death. Blurry vision highlights the sharp points of machines and the stark cleanliness o the hospital. He groans and suddenly there’s movement at the end of his bed. 

“Jackie!” He turns to look at Cora over the bars, even in the low light he can hear the tears in her voice. “You’re alive.” There’s no malice in her voice and no bitterness as she bundles him into a hug.

“Yeah-” he whispers, fighting the tears that brew against his closed eyes. The alcohol still dances off his breath; whiskey and rum waltzing off his words. It makes Cora sigh as she pulls away. 

“Jack ya gotta be honest with me, how much have you had to drink.” 

Its a question that Cora hated asking and one that Jack didn’t have an answer for. He didn’t know. “Enough.” He settles on finally. The word feels spikey in his mouth and he spits it out into the itchy hospital blanket. 

“Enough for what?” She asks, placing her hands over his trembling ones. “For you to forget? To gain that strength? T-to-” 

“To forget that my little sister hates me!” it sounds so stupid out loud, the tears that were once forced between the strong wall of his eyelids fall so freely as he crumples into her arms. “To get rid of that image of me shoutin’ at youse a-and the fear in ya eyes.” 

Cora isn’t sure what to say. She just wraps her arms tighter around Jack and rubs his back. “I don’t hate you. You’re my brother and yellin comes with being a family. There aint nothin you could do to make me hate ya, Kelly. I love youse.” 

Jack sniffles, rubbing away the last of the tears. “For sure?”

“For sure. Ya stuck with me.” 

Cora visits every day he’s in the hospital. Its a week before he gets home and when he does, Cora sits with him on the couch. Tossing popcorn at him while he flicks through the channels, laughter still buzzing through their bloodstream. He catches a kernel in his mouth and smiles, watching her shift “ya want a drink?” 

“Just juice.” 

Jack watches Cora in the kitchen, chatting to Nemo as he swims around his bowl. He listens to the way she giggles and drums her feelings out with a swift tap of her fingers. Jack listens to the sound of his little sister existing and he smiles. 

For once Jack Kelly isn’t just fine or tired. 

Jack Kelly is happy. 

Because he has a reason to stay alive. 

He has a little sister. 

A month later, they’re on the fire-escape. Their shoulders are pressed casually together as the sunsets. Jack twirls an unlit cigarette between his fingers; a little because his hands can never lay still and a lot because the nicotine bubbling in the air makes it feel like Race is with them instead of half-way across the city. It makes them feel better, the feeling that the family is connected by something as simple as a smell, a smell that means nothing to most people, but everything to them. 

Its Jack who finally breaks the silence, it’s just a sigh at first. A quiet exhale of air that seems to melt on the air before “Y’know, sometimes when it’s dark out like this.” He gestures to the night sky, poking at stars with the bud of his cigarette. “Where I just sorta wanna scream into the void, see if it screams back.” his words are punctuated by a half-smile and a shrug. “Just to remind myself I’m still alive, making a difference in the world, not jus existin in it.” 

Cora’s hand flies out to pat at the metal blindly. He feels like she was going for his hand, but she simply gets to pat his sleeve. “Ya Alive Jack. More alive than ever before.” its reassuring, comfortable. 

“Somedays I don’t feel like it.” He slides the cigarette behind his ear and turns to stare at the stars. 

“Somedays aint gonna be good, they’re gonna suck and ya gonna wish that ya never got outta bed.” Her hand finds his and she squeezes like a toddler scared to be lost. “But. some days are great and ya gonna want to dance and sing. Which is better than all bad days. Ain’t nobody’s life jus fulla roses. Everyones gotta thorn o’ two.” 

“Well, I did always say my life was fulla pricks.” 

Cora smiles, letting her head rest against his shoulder while he chuckles at his own joke. “Ya doin okay Jack. I promise.” 

Jack presses his cheek against her head. “You too Higgins, you too.”


End file.
